Love In Alabama (The Love In Series Book 1) by Shelby Gates

seems like you thought the beer was okay, too,” he said, smiling.
    I took a deep breath and glanced at the almost-empty third glass. “Definitely. Helped steady the nerves, too.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Nerves?”
    “Been awhile since I've been on what's essentially a blind date.”
    He folded his tan forearms across his chest and locked his eyes with mine. “This is totally going to sound like a line.”
    “I probably wouldn't recognize it,” I told him.
    “Lucky me, then.” He grinned. “But you don't look like someone who would have trouble getting dates. At all.”
    I closed my fingers around my glass so he wouldn't see me trembling. It wasn't an outlandish, over-the-top compliment but, for someone who wasn't used to men fawning over her, it certainly felt like one.
    “It was actually my ex-husband who didn't have trouble getting dates,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
    He grimaced. “Ouch. I'm sorry.”
    “Don't be,” I said, waving a hand over the table. “We can thank him for this date. Because if I hadn't divorced him, I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be traveling the country and I wouldn't be...” My voice trailed off and my hand flew to my mouth.
    “Wouldn't be what?” Adam asked.
    Maybe the beer had done more than I'd thought. I'd almost told him what I was doing in Alabama, what I was doing on my trip around the country.
    He reached out his hand and touched mine and a jolt of electricity shot through me. His fingers stroked my skin, his touch feather soft. His eyes were still on me, his gaze slightly hooded, his lips curved into a small smile.
    I swallowed hard. Alabama—and Adam—were starting to look more and more like a good jumping off point.
    In a number of ways.
    “Tell you what,” I said, leaning over the table. His eyes dipped to my neckline and I thrust my chest out a little, hoping to give him a better view. “Take me to some little bar that you know about. Buy me one more drink and I'll tell you.”
    His eyebrows lifted and his smile turned from soft to seductive. “I know just the place.” He held up a hand to get our server's attention.
    “Good.”
    His fingers slipped between mine and he stroked the soft flesh on my palm. My skin sprouted with goosebumps. “You've got me curious, Jess. And excited.”
    He wasn't the only one.

ELEVEN
     
     
    “I feel like a hurricane,” I said.
    “You don't look like one,” Adam teased.
    “The drink,” I clarified. “I need something...exotic.”
    And strong , I added silently.
    Adam scooted his chair closer to me and grinned. “Pretty sure they can do that.”
    We'd driven back to The Beach House Inn, parked his truck and then walked up the street about three blocks. At some point, his hand found mine and I didn't pull away. His grip was warm and firm and I suddenly had visions of all the things he could do with those hands. If I let him.
    He guided me into a small square building wedged between a souvenir shop and one of the highrise resorts. A pink neon sign flashed the name Betty Joe's and a string of white twinkling lights was looped around the edges. Adam guided me through the darkened room, to a table in a back corner near an old jukebox. An old Madonna song played from the speakers and an older couple danced on a small wood-tiled dance floor, their arms looped around each other as they swayed drunkenly to the music. 
    A small dark-haired waitress walked slowly toward our table, eyeing me first, then Adam. Her pink tank top fit her like a glove and her black booty shorts hugged her slim hips. She held a small notepad in her hand, a pen tucked behind her ear.
    “Evening,” she said, but it came out a little dry, like she didn't really mean it.
    “Hey, Emma,” Adam said casually. She looked expectantly at him and he chuckled at her expression. “This is Jess.”
    Her eyes swiveled to me. “Welcome to Betty Joe's, Jess.” Her tone wasn't mean, but it wasn't terribly friendly, either.
    “Hi,” I